


Firelight

by yeaka



Series: Botany's Cameo [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Blindfolds, Bondage, Dom/sub, Dominance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Handcuffs, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Submission, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 18:13:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Khan wants to give Jim power for his birthday, but old wounds make that hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firelight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jokers_Sanity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jokers_Sanity/gifts), [BotanyCameos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BotanyCameos/gifts).



> A/N: As requested on my Primer by Jokers_Sanity, who had the original idea. BotanyCameos plotted the shit out of it for me and betaed and deserves all the love for her hard work! Everyone thank her!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s been entirely too long.

Khan knew when he and his crew settled on Ceti Alpha V that the Enterprise wouldn’t be returning often, although Jim promised to whenever he could. Sometimes, Khan thinks about returning to Earth, despite all the red tape he’d have to cut through, all the guards that would constantly be on him, checking his every move. It’s good to be with his crew again, doing what they all do best, but...

Ceti Alpha V is a barren, ugly little planet, and Khan isn’t accustomed to not having what he wants. He wants his handsome blond lover, and he knows Jim’s coming before it happens. He gets the comm long in advance—the Enterprise is conducting shore leave on a nearby planet, and Jim’s managed to smuggle himself away in a shuttle. Not the most appropriate behaviour for a captain, but Jim rarely shows much interest in being appropriate. Khan has everything ready. Dinner’s on the table.

He’s got his home set up like a palace. The walls are all white, carved out of rock, towering high, the halls echoing when he walks over the wood floor. He answers the door himself, and Jim greets, “Hey,” grinning. He’s got a bag over his shoulder, and he brushes right past Khan. Khan closes the door again, locks it, and follows Jim inside. “Nice setup you’ve got here.”

“Thank you,” Khan answers smoothly, already debating whether or not he should go back up with Jim at the end of his stay. The crew could handle things here, but Khan is meant to be the leader. It’s his responsibility to oversee them, to guide them, to make sure everything goes accordingly.

But he couldn’t force Jim to stay. He doesn’t want to. And not having Jim around is...

“Are you bored?” Jim asks, making his way into a side room with a large table used for audiences. He glances around, figures out that that’s not their destination, and Khan watches him wander back with amusement. “I’m sorry again you got stuck on such a shitty planet, but it’s the best option I could get out of the Federation...”

“Colonizing a new civilization is surprisingly interesting,” Khan muses. Jim’s buzzing around his house like a Terran bee, poking into rooms and examining everything, trying to lead without knowing the map. Eventually, Khan scoops him up with an arm around his waist, leading him down a side corridor and up marble stairs. Another short walk and they reach the master bedroom off one end, which Khan opens only long enough to chuck Jim’s bag into.

As he closes the door, Jim says, “Hey, I wanna look in there.”

“You’ll be spending plenty of time in there later. For now, I imagine you’re sick of shuttle rations.”

“Ugh, I’m starving,” Jim grumbles. “You know, I’m the friggin’ captain, and not a single person made me a birthday cake. Not even Spock.”

“Shameful,” Khan says, nearly smirking in amusement again. “Were I your first officer, I assure you you’d receive a birthday cake.”

“It’s not a cake I want out of you,” Jim laughs, throwing an arm around Khan’s shoulders and leaning in for a quick kiss. He pulls back before Khan’s had enough of his fill, but he repeats to himself: _later_. As today is Jim’s big day and Jim is something of a... sexual connoisseur, he imagines they will be spending quite a lot of time intertwined. Later.

For now, he takes Jim’s hand, warm fingers clasped together, and he guides them back a hallway towards the dining room. He has a large, dark-wood table all set up, sporting a large, potted bouquet of (poisonous) purple Ceti flowers in the center. Jim immediately reaches out for one of the tentacles, and Khan casually warns, “Oh, you aren’t very fond of your right hand? A shame; I rather liked it...”

Jim retracts his hand and sticks out his tongue: his way of protesting Khan’s protective methods. But he grins again as soon as he sees what Khan has sitting on the table, steaming and ready, a plate on either end, seated across the middle so they won’t be so far apart. Khan walks around to the other side and pulls out his wrought-iron chair, watching Jim do the same. The table seats ten. Two will do.

When they sit down, it’s not short enough for their knees to touch beneath it. Khan slides his foot out until he finds Jim’s, and he lightly rubs Jim’s ankle with his foot, just to let Jim know he’s there. They’re both wearing socks, but Jim still visibly shudders. Jim says, “How’d you know it’s my favourite?”

“You’re transparent,” Khan sighs. “But I enjoy you, anyway.”

“I love you too,” Jim quips. It’s an inappropriate response, but it makes the corner of Khan’s mouth twitch up. It makes his pulse just a little bit quicker. He’s been waiting for this for too long. Jim serves himself. Khan does too. He provided cutlery because he’s civilized, but Jim doesn’t touch them.

So Khan uses his fork and knife to cut up his pizza, and he watches Jim pick up a slice and stuff it into his mouth, pink lips open wide, tongue curling around the bottom to lick off a stray piece of cheese. Perhaps Khan had ulterior motives for his dinner choice. He asks while Jim chews and licks the grease off his lips, “How have your adventures in space been?”

“Adventures-in-space-y.” Jim grins. “We ran into an Orion trader vessel the other day, and I seriously don’t even know where to begin. It was a mess from start to finish and a riot halfway between. You wouldn’t believe what I had to do to get dilithium out of them.”

Khan frowns. He knows what Orions are like, and that makes him not want to know. The thought of an Orion trader touching Jim is... mildly unbearable. Even looking at Jim. Sizing him up. Jim would, no doubt, look pretty in one of their cages—the Orions are best known for selling slaves. Khan’s other foot slides up until he’s got Jim’s ankles encased in his, and he can see the laugh on Jim’s face. Jim finishes his slice and licks off his fingers, sticking the middle one right between his lips, and he swallows it to the knuckle, sucking hard. His blue eyes flicker up to Khan, watching him from under pale lashes.

Khan’s pants are tight. He’s waited far too long. Jim’s in casual clothes—a white shirt and a blue jacket and dark pants. Khan’s in all black, shirt and pants, long sleeved. Despite the extra time required to slice pizza, they eat at the same rate, because Jim keeps stopping to basically perform fellatio on his greasy fingers. On his third slice, he asks, “You haven’t gotten... lonely... have you...?”

Of course Khan has gotten lonely. He has his crew, but they don’t warm his bed at night. Instead of saying it, he lifts an eyebrow. He swallows his latest piece and goes for a sip of wine. “And how do you think I’ve been with no one around to suck my cock?”

“That’s just it,” Jim answers, voice husky, eyes now looking down, clearly wanting to peer right through the table. Khan’s foot traces up Jim’s leg, circling around to pass his knee, feeling his inner thigh. Jim has a sharp intake of breath. “You do have others around that I’m sure would love to serve you, and they’re all genetically engineered to be...”

“Better?” Khan supplies. When Jim scowls, Khan smirks. “In bed, you think? Perhaps they trained us to ride cock from a young age?” Jim blushes. He didn’t think his statement through. He never does. “Their strength would be better, as would their stamina, but they certainly don’t have your eagerness or your experience.” And they don’t look at him quite how Jim does; it’s a different sort of admiration.

Jim nods. “Sorry. I just... I just miss you.”

“And you aren’t running about with your Vulcan, I assume.”

Jim’s face twists. “Don’t even joke.” Khan drops the subject. Jim goes for another piece. He’s hungry tonight. He probably hasn’t had proper, not synthesized food in a long time. The ingredients of this are mostly synthesized, but Khan put it together. Jim will eat anything, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate the little things. A chunk of tomato topples off his slice, and he leans down to lick it right off his plate like a dog.

Khan tsks. Ignoring it, Jim continues eating. He eventually slumps back in his chair, sighing, “This is amazing.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re amazing.”

“Naturally.”

“Is there dessert?”

Khan smiles indulgently. “There is cake; would you like it now or after your other treat?”

“Does my other treat involve you with less clothes on?” When Khan nods, Jim continues, “Then I want to push you onto this table, rip off your clothes, cover you in icing and lick it all off. Or maybe I want to stick my dick in my cake and have you suck it clean...”

“Both was not an option,” Khan replies smoothly. His toes are tracing patterns on Jim’s inner thigh, and he shifts to press the ball of his foot into Jim’s crotch, pleased to find a bulge already forming. Jim groans, leaning a little low over the table.

“Did you really make me a cake?”

Khan nods. Birthday cakes are a silly notion, but silly notions can go a long way with Jim, and despite popular belief, Khan isn’t _totally_ heartless. He knows an opportunity for brownie points when he sees one. He gently rubs Jim’s cock through his pants, until Jim mumbles, “Ah... I think... I think I’ll have my treat first...”

“You’re sure?” Khan purrs, voice low, fingers swirling wine around his glass. “That might spoil your appetite.”

“You know what I’m hungry for,” Jim quips back, and it seems to take a great deal of willpower to push out of Khan’s grasp, climbing out of his chair. He stands beside the table, a little flushed. “Thanks for dinner.”

“You’re welcome.” Khan places his glass back down and slowly gets to his feet, pushing his chair in. Then he’s strolling casually towards the door, like they’ve all the time in the world. He’ll deal with the dishes later.

Jim hurries to fall behind him, and then Jim’s eagerly surpassing him, popping in front and grabbing Khan’s hand. He pulls Khan around the corner and up the steps, expertly remembering where the bedroom is. When they hit the large doors, Jim tugs him inside, shutting them behind him. The sky is dark outside Khan’s windows, but the whole room’s lit with candles—something Jim, evidently, didn’t have time to notice before. He strolls a few steps forward, looking around, and when he turns, he’s obviously pleased. His expression is somewhere between genuine adoration and feral lust. He reaches out for Khan’s hands, and Khan slips into them, walking up to Jim, _finally_ pressing their bodies together. Jim’s warm from head to toe, made of hard muscles, but softer than Khan. His arms wrap around Khan’s waist—Khan’s fingers card through Jim’s hair.

Jim kisses like a starving man desperate for water. His tongue dives into Khan’s mouth without any grace, tracing every surface it can reach, and Khan sucks on it in amusement, tracing it lightly with his own. Jim moans into him. Jim’s always so responsive. Jim’s pants are tented, rubbing into Khan’s, and Khan grinds into him in return. Jim reaches up to grab Khan’s chin, holding their mouths together. Khan lets Jim run the kiss, lets it be messy and beautiful. Khan’s just as needy, in his own way. He just wouldn’t show it. He _needs_ this and doesn’t want to let go.

Jim lets go first, breathless and flushed and with half-lidded eyes. He kisses Khan again, quick, then again, like he’s trying to let go, but has to wean himself off. “So pretty,” he sighs, pecking Khan all over. “I missed looking at you so much.”

“Handsome,” Khan corrects with a chuckle, and Jim grins but doesn’t give in. He starts walking them backwards towards the bed, and then he gently turns Khan around, so he can shove Khan down onto it. Khan crawls backwards with his elbows, until his head’s in the pillows. He’s getting flashbacks. All the times he shoved Jim into bed, all the times he tied Jim up, pinned him down, fucked him hard but gentle. Tonight, it’s Jim’s birthday.

It’s Jim’s turn to make love to him.

Only, judging from the smirk on those pink lips, Khan’s not entire sure ‘love making’ will be the right term. But he knows his lover wants to be kinkier, and he already agreed to this.

And he is going to be everything he can to Jim, no matter what it takes.

Jim’s bag is still on the floor where Khan tossed it, and Jim bends to open it, reaching into it as he pulls it up. Khan quirks an eyebrow, curious. Handcuffs, he’s sure. Padded ones. That’s what they said they’d do. Khan could handle standard issue, cold metal ones, of course. But... he would prefer padded. Sure enough, Jim pulls a shiny pair out of the bag, swinging them stupidly around his fingers and looking over to Khan.

Khan lies back, content to just look scrumptious. He’s gotten his lover hard before from looks alone. He’s gotten Jim off just with his voice. It doesn’t take much with Khan, and he’s still to make sure this lasts.

Eventually, Jim decides, “Take your shirt off for me, baby.” Khan lifts an eyebrow—a commanding Jim is always interesting, even with a cheesy term of endearment tacked onto the end.

Jim’s a cute, cuddly ball of light, but he’s a strong leader where he needs to be. Powerful when he needs to be. He stands at the end of the bed, dropping the bag and using one hand to finger the handcuffs, the other to palm his own crotch. Khan wants to be that hand. He slowly arches off the bed, sensually grabbing the hem of his shirt and dragging it up his body. Jim groans at each new centimeter of skin, staring. Khan tugs it past his broad shoulders, curving his head back as the fabric slips over his lean neck. He finally tugs it past his dark hair, and then he tosses it lazily aside, eyeing Jim for more instructions.

Jim moans, “Fuck, you’re hot,” and climbs right onto the bed, clearly unable to resist. He reaches Khan’s bellybutton and sticks out his tongue, diving in, and he draws all the way up the sleek line of Khan’s stomach. He licks right to Khan’s collarbone, then right up his neck, pausing to suck his adam’s apple. It bobs in Jim’s mouth when Khan breathes. Jim licks up his chin and to his mouth, tongue sliding back in like it never left.

Khan moans up into his lover, and he lets, with some difficulty, Jim grab hold of his wrists. Jim keeps their mouths together and pins Khan’s hands above his head, pushing them against the wooden headboard. There’s a metal hoop attached where Khan was planning to fit Jim’s restraints to, but time lined up to Jim’s birthday, and that went out the window. Because Jim’s eyes are closed for the kiss, he doesn’t see Khan wince as the first cuff clamps down around his wrist. It doesn’t hurt, but it stirs up... memories.

That was a long time ago. And he tells himself he’s strong enough to get over it. He rose to power through a war, for fuck’s sakes. He can take a little bondage. He lets Jim put the chain through the hoop and clasp his other wrist together—they’re very close—only a few centimeters apart. Khan gives them an experimental tug. They’re strong—Starfleet handcuffs require strength enough to capture a rogue Vulcan or even a Klingon—but Khan could probably still break them, if he strained at them hard and long enough. It isn’t a real threat, he tells himself. It’s Jim, anyway. He opens his eyes, even though they’re still kissing, so he can see Jim’s flushed skin against him. Jim’s hands are running up and down his abs, squeezing.

After quite a bit of just making out, Jim grinding his hard-on into Khan’s stomach, he pulls back and sits up. He looks down at Khan, grinning wide, and he strokes Khan’s cheek with the back of his hand, cooing, “You’re so beautiful, with those pretty, changing eyes of yours and your sweet bow lips...” He runs his finger along the middle; Khan keeps his lips tight together. Jim seems to just like tracing them. Then Jim pushes Khan’s head back and croons, “Are you going to be a good boy for me, darling?”

Khan nearly cringes at the dominant terms. He isn’t used to this. More memories. He’s used to being in charge, Jim being a little minx, but still _submissive._ Khan’s instinct isn’t to be submissive, even though he knows that Jim would like that. He wants to give Jim everything he can. He wants to be for Jim what Jim’s been for him, and he schools his face calm, passive. A little turned on. It’s still Jim; he’s still hard. He breathes only, “Yes.”

“Yes, sir,” Jim corrects, “when you’re talking to a starship captain, you have to show the proper respect.” He taps Khan’s lips, waiting for the inevitable.

Khan absently licks one of Jim’s fingers, looking straight up at Jim’s face and saying levelly, “Yes, sir.”

“Good boy.”

Khan knows Jim means it to be dirty and hot, not demeaning. Still. Khan fights the urge to frown. He isn’t a child. He can conquer this, like he conquers everything. It’s just tonight. Just one night. It’s Jim’s birthday. He’s done all this to Jim and more.

Jim turns and reaches for the back of the bed, reaching into the bag. Khan watches him pull out a long strip of fabric: silk, by the look of it. Khan frowns. They discussed the handcuffs, and they discussed the power play, and even a little dirty talk. They dynamics were disclosed, but not other equipment. It’s an easy mistake, he supposes; a blindfold would fall into regular dominant and submissive behaviour. Still. Things are already affecting him a bit more than he thought they would. His eyes flicker back up as Jim turns around, and Jim leans forward, kissing Khan’s mouth, then the side of his face. Jim nuzzles into Khan’s dark hair, and he purrs next to Khan’s ear, “You have such nice eyes. It’s a shame I have to do this.”

Khan frowns. Before he can repeat the statement in a question, Jim’s fitting the fabric up over his eyes, blocking out the dim candlelight. Khan’s chest constricts instantly, stomach churning. Jim wraps the blindfold tight around his head, tying it firmly at the side, so the knot doesn’t dig into his skull against the mattress. Jim kisses his forehead after—Khan can feel it. He can’t _see_ it. His breathing’s more rapid than it should be. He’s blindfolded Jim before, but that was different. That was him turning the power around, not him reliving... reliving...

It’s Jim, he tells himself. Just Jim. He’s an _augment_. He can handle a little strip of fabric. And he _wants_ to be good, for _Jim_ and for their relationship. Jim settles back, down between his legs. He can feel Jim’s sides against his thighs. He’s still got his pants on. Jim leans over him properly, kissing him languidly and swallowing his tongue—Khan feels like all his air’s been cut off. He can’t let Jim know. He needs... he needs to know it’s Jim... he turns his head to the side, breaking their kiss, and he says hoarsely, “Talk dirty to me.” If he can hear Jim’s voice, if he can have that reminder, he’s sure he can take it. He needs to bring Jim pleasure.

They have a safe word, of course. Neither of them has ever used it. Khan’s not going to now. Jim chuckles darkly and purrs, “You don’t get to give orders, honey.” He taps Khan’s cheek and practically moans, “You’re _mine_ now. And I’m going to fuck you in dead silence if I want, and you’re going to lie still and take it...”

All those terms. He hears them in another man’s voice: deeper and more dangerous. He can’t see his bedroom ceiling, and his mind irrationally conjures the laboratory ceiling, the laboratory restraints. He swears he can almost feel the tight collar around his neck, limiting his oxygen and electrocuting him when he misbehaves. Then Jim starts to tug at his pants, and he can’t, he can’t—

Khan says, sharply and too anxious, “ _No._ ”

Jim chuckles and licks his cheek, “Fight me all you want, baby, you’re still going to get stuffed full of your master’s big cock...”

“Jim,” Khan hisses. Jim’s tugging his pants down, bit by bit, down his hips—Khan jerks in his bonds and wants to repeat _no._ He’s not sure if he meant it to replace the safe word or if he was repeating what he said back then. He wills himself to breathe. Jim tries to kiss him, and he tosses his head aside, dark hair tumbling into his face. He won’t yell. _Fuck_...

His head’s jerked back into place by one of Jim’s fists—he takes a sharp gulp of breath, trying to keep it together. Jim pulls him back further, his chin tilted up, his neck exposed. A wet tongue slithers over his throat, up his chin, along his jaw. “I couldn’t have bought a better slave in all the Orion system,” Jim croons.

Khan hisses wordlessly. A part of him wishes he were gagged—that would curb the need to sneer. But that thought isn’t any good. His pants are now slipping down his cock. Just for this occasion, he didn’t wear any underwear. That was a mistake. No barriers. Jim tugs his pants up his thighs so his cock and ass are exposed, and Jim’s skilled fingers run down his stomach, making him shiver. When Jim’s fingers find his cock, already wet—did Jim lick them? He couldn't see—it’s not as hard as before. He can practically hear the pout in Jim’s voice. “Aw, seems you’re not as wild as I thought you were... shame, I was so hoping to hear that sexy voice moan...” He tugs on Khan’s cock experimentally, clearly thinking he can still get more than a moan. His strong fingers wrap all around it, and Khan grits his teeth. If Jim could see his eyes, this would probably be over.

But Jim can’t, and Jim strokes his cock back to hardness while kissing all over his face and shoulders, grinding into his thigh. When Khan scrunches his eyes shut and focuses just on the feeling of Jim’s hand, it’s more bearable. He tries to drown out the words and just listen to the sound of Jim’s voice. Just recognize the feel of his fingers. Khan missed Jim for so long, wanted him so much. The thought of having sex with Jim always makes him hot. He thrusts subtly into Jim’s hand, and Jim purrs, “So hot... my favourite lover... I wish I could chain you at the foot of my captain’s chair and make you dance for me and my crew, naked and collared...”

Collared. Khan’s stomach is tight. His hips still again. His cock twitches. Jim takes it for a sign of pleasure and snickers, one hand running down between his cheeks. “You like that, bitch? The thought of being my footstool? I bet you’d look good on your hands and knees, maybe tied up and marked—I’d write my name on your pretty chest and make sure everyone knew exactly who you belong to...”

Jim pulls back for the barest of seconds, there’s a tiny bit of rustling from down by Khan’s feet, and then Jim’s back, hands both back in place, slick and cool. Lube. Jim added lube. It makes it feel better when Jim returns to pumping his cock, but the lube between his crack...

Jim finds his hole. It’s twitching with anxiety—Khan can’t relax. He wants to. He really wants to. He hates that this is overtaking him where nothing else could. But he tenses when Jim’s fingertip taps at the tight ring of puckered muscles, tracing around them. The thought of it popping in is...

“You’re _mine_ ,” Jim hisses, right in his ear. He _is_. He wants to be. Jim’s all his. But the wording, that wording, is just the same as before. It’s in Jim’s voice, but he can’t see Jim’s face. It sounds like Marcus. It could’ve been Marcus. Even though the finger’s not inside, it’s clearly just trying to make him feel good, it feels like a _threat_. Jim bites his cheek, cock hard against Khan’s hip, fist squeezing a little too tight around his dick. “If I’d found you in that tube, the first thing I’d do would be to strip you down and come all over your pretty face, and when I woke you up I’d make you my bitch—”

“Stop it,” Khan growls again. Jim just chuckles, clearly thinking it’s just part of the game, and Khan’s not sure anymore if he’s playing it. He recognizes that kind of laugh and it makes him _sick._ Even in Jim’s hand, his cock’s deflating. His breathing’s too fast again, like his heart’s going to beat right out of his chest.

“Don’t like that?” Jim mocks, voice dripping with sex, and that only makes it more terrifying. Khan should never be afraid. He’s stronger than this. Fuck. Jim’s finger is pushing—it’s going to breach—shit—no—“C’mon, don’t pretend you don’t _love_ my cock—I can see in your face how much you want to suck your master’s dick and drink all his cum—”

Except Jim _can’t_ see because Khan’s _blindfolded_ and he jerks at his bonds again, hissing, “Jim, no,” firm and hard and he wants to do it again. His skin’s on fire. He’s more than uncomfortable. Jim licks his face and he jerks away, tugging at the handcuffs again—he has to get them off—has to get this blindfold off. The laboratory’s sharp in his mind with vivid details, and he can’t see to deny they’re there.

Now it’s an erotic purr, like this is _some fucking game_ , “Don’t be such a brat.”

More laughter, cruel and sharp, like fucking _Marcus’ holding him down to the table and—_

“Get off of me,” Khan snarls, jerking up so violently that he can feel Jim toppling out of the way.

Jim shouts back, “Behave!”

And Khan slams forward once, then twice, trying to pull the handcuffs out of the wall, hips bucking up to throw Jim’s hands off and lips hissing, “Jim, take this thing off me!” It’s not a game. It was a game to Marcus. Khan’s skin is on fire. He thinks he might throw up. He’s losing air by the second, like the blindfold’s receding and cutting into him, and all he can see is the walls of the laboratory around his eyes and his own naked legs, chained to stirrups in the air, Marcus naked between them, spitting on him and calling him filthy petnames and threatening to slaughter his entire crew...

“Shit,” Jim swears suddenly, scraping at the handcuffs, fiddling with the buttons on the side and trying to hold on while Khan thrashes about. The minute they snap open, Khan grabs the blindfold, shoving it off his face and throwing it aside, panting and looking wildly around—his room—his room on Ceti Alpha V—Jim around him—candles, not lamps—stone, not metal—“Khan—”

Khan looks sideways at his lover. Khan’s breathing hard, bent over, cock completely limp and hair in his face. Jim’s eyebrows are knit together, and he says, “Shit, shit, I’m so sorry... I didn’t mean to... I...” He puts a hand on Khan’s arm.

Khan jerks away, turning to slide off the bed. He runs a shaky hand through his hair and walks to the adjacent bathroom, pulling and doing up his pants on the way, needing space. And he might throw up. He slumps down beside the toilet, fighting the feeling of shame and self-disappointment. This was supposed to be good for Jim, for them, and now...

Now he’s not only apparently incapable of being the subservient lover Jim wanted, but he’s damaged goods and his eyes might be red.

“Khan?” Jim’s voice is soft through the ajar bathroom door. The bathroom’s cold, full of greyish blue tile, and the lights aren’t on, just starlight through the window and candlelight from the bedroom. “Khan, I’m sorry. Can I... can I come in...?”

Khan rubs at his temple and releases a shaky breath. “Yes.” He isn’t going to mope on the floor forever.

Jim opens the door slowly and creeps across the tile, like any sudden movement will startle Khan into striking. He sits down gingerly, so close their legs are touching, backs against the grand bathtub, and he asks quietly, “What happened?”

“You shouldn’t have blindfolded me,” Khan says gruffly. Even though it’s not Jim’s fault. Jim didn’t know.

Jim says, “I’m sorry. I really am. It won’t happen again.” He’s so human, so understanding, and Khan doesn’t want to turn and see the disappointment in his eyes. Khan stares stubbornly forward, while Jim hesitantly repeats, “What happened...?”

“Nothing.” Khan’s voice is harsh; final. His breathing’s still not right. He’s trying to push Marcus out of his mind. He’s still shaken.

Jim says almost as firmly, “I know that’s not true. Please, tell me what it is. I clearly triggered something—tell me what. I can be here for you.”

Jim couldn’t possibly understand. Khan wouldn’t want him to. Jim’s kinky and a fighter, but somehow, he’s too innocent for this. And somehow, it feels like not knowing makes Khan _cleaner_ to him...

“I’m fine.” Khan sucks in a breath and drops his hands away from his face, elbows resting along his knees. “I’m fine.” He looks sideways at Jim, momentarily confused by all the pain there. He wanted to top that badly? He looks almost as sad as Khan feels. “We can continue.”

“No, we can’t,” Jim insists, voice nearly cracking in clear concern. “I’m not going to touch you again until you tell me what happened, so I know how to treat you _right_ and I can comfort you.”

Khan snorts. He doesn’t believe it. He goes in for a kiss, but Jim shoves him away. “Tell me.” And he looks so stubborn that Khan releases a frustrated breath, jerking back again.

He opens his mouth once, attempting to speak, but then he closes it again. He takes a moment. He exhales languidly, and he looks aside, cricking his neck. Distractions. He looks back at Jim, so he’s ready to grab Jim if Jim tries to leave.

“I was...” he pauses, stuck on wording. He’s normally such a wordsmith, but this is a delicate matter. “When Marcus originally woke me, before he employed me as John Harrison, he... he conducted some _experiments_. To break me in and repay him for his mercy and kindness, waking me and giving me a new identity, he said. There were... many restraints.”

He didn’t say it. Jim says bluntly, horror all over his face, “You were raped.”

Khan simply nods.

“ _Shit_. Fuck, Khan, I’m—I’m _so sorry_.” Jim’s eyebrows knit together, eyes almost watery, his whole face crippled with the news. It’s the emotion Khan never expressed, and it’s hard for Khan to watch the agony on his lover’s face. “Fuck! And I said all those things... I am so, so sorry...”

Khan says slowly, “I can still be what you need. I understand that, apparently, I am still damaged for it, but—”

“ _Damaged_?” Jim hisses. “Khan, that was _not_ your fault. I don’t think of you as damaged, I think of you as hurt! And I want to comfort you—I’m not going to toss you aside! Shit, now I’m glad you killed him...”

Khan isn’t sure of any of that. He puts his hand on Jim’s thigh, squeezing once.

Jim puts his hand over it and says, “We don’t have to have sex. I understand. Well, no, I don’t, but I want too; I’d never want to hurt you. I can wait until you’re comfortable again, and we never have to play with bondage. We can just... kiss and stuff... I don’t know, whatever you’re comfortable with.” When Khan leans in to kiss him, he barely kisses back.

It’s just as bad. Jim shying from harder sex is still a form of defeat to Khan. He intakes a raggedy breath. He knew this would happen. He thinks of crushing Marcus’ head, and it gives him some solace.

He lets his fingers slip off Jim’s leg, and he stands up. His eyes are definitely red. Pathetic. He wills himself back to steel. It hurts, but he doesn’t have to feel. He walks back to the bedroom, and he sits down on the edge, watching a fully dressed Jim trail out of the bathroom, looking at him like some broken vase.

He doesn’t want to say anything. When Jim gets close enough, Khan reaches for his hips. Jim doesn’t touch him. Khan growls, trying to stop his voice from cracking, “You don’t want to do this anymore.”

Jim’s face scrunches up in confusion. His hands lift tentatively to Khan’s shoulders, touching down like if he pushes too hard, Khan will break. Khan _hates_ that. “And you mean ‘this’ is sex?”

A simple, bitter nod.

Frowning, Jim dives into, “Of course I want to fuck you. Khan, I want you so bad it _hurts_. I always do. Do you know many times I’ve jerked off to your picture? I get hard at the mere thought of your face, for fuck’s sake—that’s how hot you are to me. Every time I get a communication from you I listen to it over and over again in the darkness of my bed, touching myself and wishing it was _your_ hand around my cock. I want you to take me, and I want to take you. I could die happy tomorrow, knowing I had you.”

Khan’s throat is tight. “You wanted to play rough...”

Jim laughs: a beautiful, quiet chuckle. “Khan, we’ve been rough. I’ve still got the dents in my quarters from where you fucked me into the wall. I don’t need handcuffs to get off. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like to get a little kinky now and then, but... but we can talk about it all first—I’ll be more careful, next time. There’s lots of stuff we can do that won’t make you feel... feel vulnerable...”

Khan cringes. He hates that word. It makes him feel weak. Jim sighs and bends down to kiss his forehead, holding his hair and saying quietly, “I love just being with you too, you know. I could come just as hard from making sweet love to you than I could from fucking you into the floor. And you are _not damaged._ ” Perhaps because Khan’s making it clear on his face that he disagrees, Jim adds, “How would you feel if Marcus had raped me?”

For a split second, all of Khan’s pain is replaced with a searing hot rage. Just the thought of it makes his fingers twitch to _destroy_ , and he’s still got Jim’s hips in them, so he has to be careful not to bruise. “I would’ve ripped off his limbs one by one and made sure he lived through it, and then I would’ve strangled him to death with his own intestines.”

Jim tenses at the violent description, but Khan doesn’t take it back. “That’s not what I meant. Would you think of me as unworthy of you or think less of me for being affected by it?”

That’s different. Khan’s lips purse. “Of course not. But you’re human. You shouldn’t have been stronger. Don’t you understand? My worth is in my strength, and I lost a measure of it then.”

“You think you should’ve been stronger?” Jim’s brows lift. He hangs his head. Sighing, he leans forward, until his forehead hits Khan, eyes closed and hands encircling the back of Khan’s neck. There’s sorrow in every bit of his body, and it hurts and it’s confusing. “It wasn’t your fault. You might be engineered, but you’re still _human_. What you went through... that could happen to anyone, and it’s _never_ the victim’s fault. Being victimized doesn’t make you weak.”

When he pulls back up, Jim softly kisses Khan’s forehead, and he whispers, “Living through that and still being the person you are today is just a mark of how _strong_ you really are. You could’ve given up after that. You could’ve let your pain run your life, could’ve become something dark and twisted with hate, but you’re _not_. You’re a strong, wonderful leader, and you’re a loving boyfriend, and you’re a beacon of hope to your crew and to me. I _love_ you, just as much now as I did this morning.” His hands slip back up to Khan’s face, cupping the sides and softly thumbing his cheeks, and Khan lets himself be tilted back for another kiss, this time light and on the lips.

Khan wraps his arms around Jim’s waist so fast that Jim barely has time to gasp, and then Khan’s tugging him down to the bed, sideways, rolling on top and crushing him into the mattress, holding him so, so tight. Jim holds him back, whispering in his ear, “I’m sorry,” and, “I love you.”

“I can be everything you need,” Khan whispers back, as much to himself as to Jim. “I conquered this.” Just... not with blindfolds.

Jim kisses his cheek again. Khan grabs a fistful of blond hair and positions Jim for a proper kiss, on the lips, with tongue. Jim moans into him, clutching at his bare shoulders and kissing back just as hard.

When Khan lifts off, Jim keeps his eyes closed, asking quietly through flushed cheeks, “You can take me.”

“Do you still want me?”

Jim’s eyes shoot open. “Of _course._ ” For a moment, Khan examines their certainty, checking for deceit. Jim never was much good at lying, at least, not to him. Jim’s full of sincerity, and then he sighs, reaching up to stroke Khan’s cheek. “...If you want me to prove it, I would _love_ to make love to you. But trust me, I’d love it just as much slow and sweet as rough and kinky.”

“We can still be rough,” Khan growls, near certain.

“Another night.”

Khan nods.

Jim smiles, kissing him, then lifting up onto elbows and sighing, “Lie back in the bed for me...?” Another nod, another kiss.

Climbing off Jim is always a difficult thing to do, but Khan knows it’ll get better. He repositions himself in the sheets, and Jim pulls them back beneath him, tucking the blankets aside. Head in the pillows, Khan rakes a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath. This is... better. The candlelight is lovely across Jim’s skin—so much warmer than the artificial lights in Section 31 were. Jim smiles up at him reassuringly, and Jim pulls off his own shirt, making them even. The lube bottle is buried among the blankets next to the bag, and Khan takes a little look at it: observing his surroundings. Jim takes it in one hand and passes it to Khan, murmuring, “Maybe you should do this, just in case.”

“I trust you,” Khan says, very clearly. It’s not a statement he makes lightly. There are very, very few people in this universe who he trusts, and Jim Kirk is one of them. Jim grins.

But he purrs, eyelids falling half down, “I want to see _you_ do it. Weren’t you listening earlier? You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, and I think it’ll be a struggle not to come from the sheer sight of you preparing yourself.”

Khan smirks. Jim has a way of laying it on thick. In this situation, he doesn’t mind.

The bottle is small, the lube clear and thick. Khan pours an ample amount into his palm while Jim stretches out beside him, resting a hand on Khan’s stomach. Jim pets him lightly, chin resting on his shoulders. Jim kisses his ear and purrs, “We don’t need a safe word for this. You say no; I’ll stop. You say stop; I’ll stop. You look anything but _yes_ , and I’ll stop.” Jim licks the shell of Khan’s ear before he can protest. Then Jim’s eyes are travelling down, looking at the way Khan’s wet fingers slip into his pants, and he practically moans, “Fuck, you’re hot.”

Smirking, Khan turns his head to peck Jim on the lips. “As are you, love.” Jim preens under the praise.

Khan’s never actually prepared himself before, but he knows exactly what to do. It’s just a little... strange... doing it to himself. He lets his finger circle his hole, just like Jim did, and a part of him wishes it still was Jim. His eyes trail over to the front of Jim’s pants, tenting more by the minute, rubbing subtly against Khan’s legs. The trail of blond tufts disappearing below the hem makes Khan lick his lips. He wonders if his own dark curls do the same to Jim. His pants cover most of the action, but he lets his knuckles bulge against the fabric, fingers squirming, putting on a show. The tip of his dick peeks out of the top, and Jim makes a deep, keening sort of sound. Jim nuzzles into the side of Khan’s head and breathes, “Take off your pants.”

He probably didn’t mean it like an order. Orders like this, lying side by side, everything soft and within his control, Khan doesn’t mind. He can share this control. Unbound, he could take on anyone, though he never wants to fight Jim again. He withdraws his hands, instead scrunching the fabric up, loving Jim’s moan when he slips them over his thighs, cock spilling out. He juts his hips off the bed and manages to pull his pants right off his legs, kicking them aside. One hand returns to massaging his hole, two fingers spreading it open, and his other hand strays to the front of Jim’s pants, palming the bulge. Jim moans appreciatively.

But then Jim brushes him aside and sits up, still right next to Khan, but now leveraged to stare right down at his busy fingers. Khan uses his freed hand to hold his cock out of the way. He pushes one blunt digit against his entrance and pushes in, hissing when it pops inside. He watches Jim’s face. Jim bites his bottom lip. Jim always looks so _hot_ when he does that. He chews on it while Khan slowly pushes his finger deeper inside, forcing his muscles to relax and his body to take it. His ass wants to tremble, but he keeps going. His finger’s entirely coated in lube, and his body’s built to take stress. The finger slides right to the knuckle, and Khan’s breath hitches.

“Yeah,” Jim hisses, spurring Khan on. “Finger yourself for me, baby.” And he reaches to pet Khan’s stomach, occasionally swiping past the head of Khan’s cock, now hard again. Mostly from the sight of Jim. Khan eyes Jim’s lean back and strong shoulder blades and the way his pants ride just a little bit too low, revealing his tailbone and the top of his ass. Khan licks his own lips, already wanting to bite into it. He pistons his finger gently in and out, until he thinks he can take a second, and then he slides out to do just that. Two is harder to take, but he manages. He goes all the way in again, scissoring himself. He glances back to Jim’s face. Jim’s flushed, and his hand twitches. He probably wants to touch his cock but wants to make it last.

Jim definitely still wants him. Khan feels like a fool for ever doubting that. He can see it all over Jim’s body, see the want and the need and the _love_. Jim looks like he’s never seen anything more beautiful, never wanted anything else. Khan’s determined to fulfill that. He lifts his ass off the mattress and pulls back to slide in a third finger, grunting and asking, “So, you want more?”

“I want your whole hand in there,” Jim groans. “But I don’t think I could wait that long...”

Crooking an eyebrow, Khan purrs playfully, “Your cock’s as big as my whole hand—really?”

Jim chuckles. He doesn’t look away from Khan’s ass, being stretched open repeatedly, slicked up and loosened. “You know exactly how big my cock is. You’ll be lucky if I don’t split you in two.”

Normally, Khan would snort. Tonight, he simply smiles. Jim may not have the size of an augment, but then, he is very well endowed. And Khan does so love Jim’s cock. He’s joked about putting it on a leash before, using it to tug Jim around his quarters. He’s used it for a handle once or twice—Jim fights less when his sensitive areas are engulfed. Now Khan wants to see it, but he doesn’t break the spell Jim’s cast—he’ll let Jim set the pace.

Jim doesn’t take long. He finally groans, “Oh, that’s enough. Take them out—I have to have you.” And Khan obediently slips his fingers out of his hole, letting his arms drift lazily to the side, lying back to just be _worshipped._

Jim looks particularly pleased, and he climbs back between Khan’s legs, staring right down at Khan’s hole while he undoes the front of his pants. Smirking, Khan clenches, just to make his furrowed entrance twitch and give Jim a show. Jim moans in clear gratitude. Jim _definitely_ still wants him.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Jim croons as he crawls over Khan’s body, getting ready, up on hands and knees. He helps bring Khan’s legs up around his waist, and he puts one hand on the mattress to either side of Khan’s chest, looking right down into Khan’s eyes. Then he whispers softer, “I missed your eyes.”

Khan tilts his head back, looking down at Jim through his lashes, and he purrs, “You missed all of me.”

“I _did_ ,” Jim insists. He grinds down, cock brushing over Khan’s, and Jim moans. Khan grits his teeth. Eyes fluttering shut, Jim breathes, “Slick my cock up for me, dear?” The petnames are getting ridiculous, but Khan just smirks with the glow.

He finds the lube and pours himself another pool, reaching down between their bodies to find Jim’s cock. He does the bare minimum to get it wet, encasing it and running his hand up only once. Jim’s hard as a rock. It looks like he’s already close to coming. Khan wants this to last quite a bit longer than that.

Jim must agree, because he doesn’t complain. He pulls himself out of Khan’s grasp and positions his hips properly, holding the base to get himself lined up. He presses in, just a little bit, keeping it in place, and then he looks back at Khan, asking sincerely, “You’re sure you want this?”

Khan says simply, “Get inside me.”

Jim groans, and he slams right in. Khan hisses instantly, ass clenching on instinct, and Jim moans as his cock grinds to a halt, half inside and pistoning gently in and out to get more. Khan wills himself to relax, and he looks right into Jim’s blue eyes. Jim looks back. It helps him relax. His fists are tight in the sheets. Jim feels big, feels thick, like it’s filling him up already. Khan knows he can take more, and he nods to signify that Jim should go farther.

“You’ve got a massive cock _and_ you’re tight as hell,” Jim moans, eyes barely focused. “I’d say it’s not fair, but then, I’m the one that benefits...”

“You get all the luck,” Khan chuckles. Jim smirks. He presses his hips in further, and it takes him a minute to get fully seated, squirming into place and grinding his balls into Khan’s ass. Khan’s breath shakes with the force of it; he’s now impossibly full, plugged right up. It feels strange, and a little uncomfortable, but the idea of being full of _Jim_ keeps him hard. Then Jim’s shifting, sliding half out and sliding back in, and he brushes something that makes Khan moan, arching up. Jim grins broadly, and he aims for that spot every consequent time.

A part of Khan, perhaps the memory in Khan’s body, expects to be plundered, hard and fast. He expects to be thrown up and down with the force of it, to be reduced to nothing, and he thinks he could adjust to that if it were Jim. But he’s still grateful when it’s not that way. It’s slow and steady, and each time Jim slides out of him, it’s a luxurious burn, pleasure building when it slides back in, brushing that tender spot. It makes Khan shiver with ecstasy, eyes fluttering shut, half-opening a second later, trying to focus on his lover’s face. Jim hovers right over him, clutching at his shoulders and moving slow, hair a bit messy and cheeks pink. Khan’s ass squeezes at Jim’s cock, and Jim whines, “Khan, you feel _so_ good...”

It makes Khan want to smirk. Instead, he just lifts his hips up to help. Jim gasps and seems to appreciate it, going only a little faster. It’s almost torturous, being taken at this pace, but it’s beautiful too, and it’s warm, and it feels _good_. Amazing. His whole body’s tingling. Khan lifts his hands from the mattress and runs them all over Jim’s body, down his strong pecs and his taut stomach, around to the smooth expanse of his back. He feels flawless beneath Khan’s fingertips, and he’s incredibly responsive, hissing when Khan lightly scratches blunt nails down his back or whimpering when Khan pinches his rosy nipples. He’s a vision to be held, and he uselessly pants, “Fuck, I love you. Love you so much. Missed you so much. Thought of you all the time—your pretty face, your gorgeous body, your hot-as-hell voice... and then your attitude and your confidence and your power... ugh, I’m so horny... you’re so good...”

There’s a warm glow in Khan’s chest that could never come from anything other than Jim’s mouth. Or maybe Jim’s body. Jim’s making sweet love to him, and it isn’t weak or unworthy; it’s perfect and a masterpiece. Jim knows exactly what he’s doing, and every thrust makes Khan just as hard as Jim is. He’s having just as much trouble breathing, and he’s starting to sweat. Jim’s already there. Then Jim’s fingers wrap around his cock, and he’s a goner.

A few strokes in, it’s too much for Khan to handle. For the first time in their relationship, he comes first, his augment stamina shot by the sheer state of being overwhelmed. He’s emotionally overdrawn and physically exhausted, and he arches up into Jim’s hand with a languid cry, coming hard and fast, right over Jim’s fingers. His releases splashes both of their chests, and Jim moans, “ _So, so beautiful._ ”

It takes a minute for Khan to stop. He covers them in a healthy load, and then he’s lying back, panting, and he can feel his ass going off, convulsing wildly around Jim’s still buried dick, and Jim comes a moment later. Khan savours the feeling of Jim’s release filling him—it’s odd, but welcome. Jim takes a minute, losing it, and then he’s slumping, head down, cock slipping out and taking a stream of cum with it.

Jim climbs up and collapses next to Khan, on his back. Khan rolls over and curls into Jim’s side, sighing, “Perfect.”

“You’re perfect,” Jim says, head rolling to the side. He’s panting hard. He looks Khan right in the eyes, holding them, and everything Khan is melts into something warm and pleasant—a feeling he always wants to have.

He _hates_ that Jim doesn’t live with him, and he’s both eager and sad when Jim mumbles, “Come back to the ship with me.”

It’s a scenario Khan’s thought about again and again. But... “I couldn’t leave my crew.”

Frowning, Jim reaches up to hold the side of Khan’s face. He says quietly, “You don’t have to be the king of everything all the time. You deserve a break, just like everyone else.”

Khan snorts. “Kings don’t take breaks.”

“You could stand to learn to relax. Come back to the ship with me. We can work on our relationship, and I can be there for you. You deserve that. ...Besides, you’re bored here, I can tell. You’re worth so much more than one little colony. Space will be more exciting. Come with me.”

Khan exhales. Jim’s said it several times already, but that won’t stop him from saying it several more. It’ll be a difficult battle to fight, particularly because Khan doesn’t want to fight it.

He wants to go back with Jim and start over, build a new life with Jim, drop by his crew occasionally and catch up with them like family. But he’s a man that knows what one wants to do and what one has to do don’t often line up, so he says simply, “I will think about it.”

Jim smiles wide and kisses him, repeating for the thousandth time, “I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Again, credit for idea goes fully to Jokers_Sanity and BotanyCameos, so don't give me credit for that. XD ♥


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